


He's been by like, a ton

by Yecam



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Bi Rich Goranski, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gay Michael Mell, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Post-Squip, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-20 04:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11913453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yecam/pseuds/Yecam
Summary: How did Michael find out about the Mountain Dew Red? Rich told him when Michael goes to see him in the hospital.





	1. Chapter 1

"Get out of my way. Loser." Loser, loser, loser. The word had circled round and round Michael's head for three days. His only friend had called him a loser, had said that he was jealous of his newfound popularity. Couldn't Jeremy see that the SQUIP was changing him, and not in a good way? Michael needed to stop the SQUIP, but how could he when Jeremy wouldn't let him?

Michael shook his head bringing himself back to the present. He was in Chemistry and was supposed to be working on the molarity of something or other. Almost nobody was actually working on the problems, using the time to quietly talk to each other.

"...and then Rich was totally like..." Michael heard a snippet of Jenna and Chloe's conversation.

Rich. It was all his fault. He was the one who told Jeremy about that fucking, mind-twisting, tic tac. Then Michael was struck with an idea. Maybe Rich knew how to turn it off or at least had some information about how to do it. The only problem was that Michael had no idea where Rich was. He hadn't been at school today and Michael didn't have his phone number or his address. Maybe that was what Jenna had been talking about. Michael tuned back into the conversation. 

"...severe burns. He was in the house for a long time before Jake ran in to save him."

"Did you see him? Rich I mean." asked Chloe intently listening to Jenna.

"No. I don't think anybody has seen him. After all who wants to go all the way out to Saint Clare's to talk to a probably totally insane Rich who might be dead at this point. No, but I did hear from Dustin Kropp that Jake..." Michael tuned out again as they changed subjects.

Saint Clare's was the closest hospital. Rich was in the hospital, crazy, possibly dead and nobody had seen him? Michael had to check this out. It was sounding very similar to what his WoW buddy had told him about what had happened to his brother. He couldn't shake the feeling that Rich being in the hospital had something to do with the SQUIP.

He glanced at the clock. Just 10 more minutes and the school day was over. Then he could try to get some answers. He turned his attention back to his molarity worksheet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally ship boyf riends but I got hung up on the line that this pic is named after and I wanted to write a thing. It was supposed to be a oneshot but then it grew and grew and grew until it became whatever this is. This is my first multi-chaptered fit that isn't completely done before I post, I'll try to post everyday, or if not, whenever I finish these things.


	2. Chapter 2

Rich woke up to a quiet knock on his door and a nurse calling softly but clearly in a southern accent, "Richard, you have a visitor."

He opens his eyes, dreading seeing any of his old friends. He was surprised when he was greeted by none other that's mister RIENDS himself, Michael Mell, standing awkwardly in the doorway to the hospital room, fiddling with the chord of his headphones.

"Wha-what are you doing here?" Rich asked. He had been expecting nearly anybody else to be his first visitor.

Michael visibly took a deep breath and released the chord from his hand before he approached the bedridden boy. With no preamble he leveled Rich with a stony look and asked,"You were the one who told Jeremy about the SQUIP, right?" 

Rich tensed at the mention of that stupid supercomputer. "Yeah?" he confirmed warily, "Why do you want to know?" If Michael wanted a SQUIP than he was looking in the wrong place. Never again would Rich help that evil Kermit.

"How do you turn it off?" Michael rushed out.

"What?" Michael was surprising Rich with every word that he said. He wanted to turn the SQIUP off? Did he have one? But if he had one, why would it allow him to talk to Rich? Was he asking for Jeremy?

"It's a computer, right? So it must shut off somehow. How do you turn it off?" Rich could tell that Michael was getting desperate.

He was the one who started this, he had to at least try to make it right. "Alright calm down," he started, "there are only two wayth that I could find to turn it off," Rich internally cringed when he realized that his lisp was back. He was grateful that Michael didn't comment on it but as he continued, he carefully tried to avoid "s" words, "Way one: drink Mountain Dew Red. But you need the old kind, not the new Code Red one. Way two: nearly die, it'll go into a permanent hibernation right before you do," he gave a hollow laugh and attempted a smile that probably looked more like a grimace than anything, "Can you figure out which one I picked?" Michael looked horrified. Rich stopped trying to smile and moved his gaze from Michael's face to the hospital's curtains on the other side of the room.

"You burned down that house so you could rid of your SQUIP?" Michael's voice was low and full of fear. Rich couldn't tell whether it was fear of the SQUIP or if it was fear of Rich himself.

"I didn't want to," Rich rushed out. He wasn't sure why but he needed Michael to know he didn't want to burn down his best friend's house and leave him homeless. He needed someone to know and, well, Michael was there. "I tried to find the Mountain Dew Red. I tried and tried, but they don't offer it anywhere. And nobody at the party had it, or even knew where to get it. I athked everyone there. Motht of the people didn't even know what I wath athking for." The words were tumbling out of his mouth now, he barely even registered when he said "s" words. "I didn't have time to do or even think of anything elthe. I needed that fucker out of my head. Having it there wath wortht than anything I could think of, tho I thet the fire and didn't even try to move until it went to thleep. By then I couldn't move even if I wanted to." He stopped and looked at Michael. He had a question that had been burning at the back of his mind ever since he woke up, "Do you... Do you know how I got out? I can't remember."

"Well I was kinda eavesdropping on Jenna Rolan's conversation earlier and she said that Jake ran in to save you."

"What," Rich was glad he was already lying down because the news totally floored him. Jake, as in the guy whose house he had lit up? That Jake? "but I...why would he...what?" Great job Rich, that totally made sense.

Michael got the conversation back on track, "So, all I need to do is give Jeremy some old school Mountain Dew Red and it'll shut off, right? Easy peasy"

He sounded so hopeful, and Rich hated to burst his bubble but he had to be warned that it wouldn't be as easy as it sounded. "Yeah, well you need to find the crap, and then the, fucking," he couldn't think of a way to say SQUIP without an "s" so he just weakly gestured with the part of his left hand that wasn't encased in bandages, "you know, the computer, probably will try to keep him from drinking it. But if you can find it and then figure out a way to make Jeremy actually drink it then, yeah, no problem."

"Don't worry," Michael said with a smile and an over-exaggerated wink, "the Dew will be easy to get. I have my sources," his face dropped a little but he still managed a half-convincing smile as he continued, "and I'm sure I can make him drink it somehow."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Rich said with a snort, he could feel his body trying to fall asleep, the conversation having sapped what little strength he had. Before he fell asleep he had to say one last thing to Michael. His exhaustion made the words slur together so he was pretty sure his lisp would just be chalked up to him being tired, "Hey, I know that you only came to thee me becauthe you needed information about the THQUIP, but thank you for coming anyway," he yawned and finished with a soft, "you've been the only one to even kinda care." He closed his eyes and felt himself start to drift off.

"It wasn't a problem, but um I'll let you sleep. Goodnight Rich," Rich heard Michael leave the room and close the door.

That was the most awkward exchange Rich had had since 9th grade. It was, in a word, amazing. Rich fell asleep with a smile on his face reveling in the fact that he was able to have awkward exchanges again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the longest chapter that I have written so far. This one's from Rich's POV (if you couldn't tell) and each chapter is switching between the two boys.  
> Also I know that the creator of the musical said that Rich set the fire because the SQUIP made him, but I decided that it was because he was trying to "almost" die and thus take the computer out with him. The the whole "permanent hibernation" thing is all BS head cannon stuff.


	3. Chapter 3

Michael had no idea why he had decided to go back to Saint Clare's. He had the information he needed, he had even gone to his supplier and bought a whole case of the old school Mountain Dew Red. So why was he back at the hospital just two days later with a bottle of Mountain Dew Red that he had slapped a bow onto?

He shrugged to himself. It wasn't as if he had anywhere else to go after school. He was going to talk to Jeremy tomorrow at the play and force him to drink the Dew, but that wasn't until tomorrow. He had time to kill and decided to repay Rich for the information with a gift. It was a kinda shitty gift, but the intent was there.

Okay he was also kinda curious. The Rich he had seen in the hospital two days ago wasn't anything like the Rich who had tormented Jeremy and himself for the past year and a half. This Rich seemed unsure of himself and had a lisp that he would try to hide. The old Rich was always confident and could clearly pronounce the letter "s" (as he would often demonstrate by calling Jeremy "tall-ass"). He wanted to know just how much of Rich the SQUIP had changed.

He gathered his courage, walked into the building and took the elevator up to the third floor where Rich was. He signed into the floor's front desk and asked the nurse on duty if Rich had had any other visitors. It was the same nurse that had let him into Rich's room before.

"No, sugar, looks like you're the only visitor so far. I must say you are a mighty fine friend to come visit him."

"Oh he's not my friend," Michael rushed out before he could stop himself. "He's just," what? If Michael's last visit was an indication, Rich wasn't his bully anymore. But then, what was he? What were they? Michael didn't know anymore. "We just know each other from school," he finished lamely, his face flushing hot with embarrassment.

The nurse looked a little confused but covered it quickly by saying, "Well alrighty, you're still a mighty fine person coming out here to see an acquaintance from school. Do you need me to show you the room or do you remember where it is?"

"I remember, thank you." He quickly left the reception desk area and, as quickly as he could without being too conspicuous, fled down the hall away from the embarrassment of that situation. He tugged on the drawstrings of his hoodie regretting that he had elected to leave his headphones in the car because it gave him one less thing to fidget with.

He walked all the way down the hall until he came to the second to last door on the right. He gently knocked as he opened the door. "Rich," he called softy. There was no response and he opened the door fully. Rich's eyes were closed and he hadn't registered Michael's entrance at all. Michael approached the bed and realized why. Rich was fast asleep. Michael smiled down at the other boy. He looked peaceful like this. Like he hadn't had an evil supercomputer in his brain for the past year and a half.

Michael gently set the bottle down on Rich's side table and realized he should probably write who it was from. He hadn't made a card to go with the bottle because he had figured Rich would be awake when he got there. Luckily, the bedside table had a small pad of the hospital's paper and a pen sitting on it.

Michael quickly scrawled a note on a sheet of paper he ripped from the pad.

Rich,  
I came by to give you this. I know that you said yours is in an eternal hibernation or something but just in case, here's this. Also it just tastes really good.  
Hope you enjoy.  
~Michael

He debated whether or not he should leave his phone number just in case Rich ever wanted to contact him, then he decided against it. Why would The Rich Goranski want to contact him? Even with the SQUIP gone, Rich was still near the top of the social ladder while Michael was at the very bottom. Instead, Michael just folded the note in half and wrote "RICH" on the outside. He set it up in front of the bottle, but instead of leaving immediately, he just looked at Rich.

He really hoped that Rich didn't wake up, because it would be hard to explain why he was staring. He could hardly explain it to himself, he just stared. Rich's face, usually so expressive, was at peace. Michael could see the still fresh burns curl out from the edges of the bandages that covered Rich's body like a mummy, like thin branches of a tree seeking out the light. Michael saw things he had never noticed before. For example, that Rich had small green gauges in his ears, of how after a few days in the hospital he was beginning to have some stubble, or just how small he was. Michael had of course known that Rich was short but he never realized until now, looking at him alone in a hospital room, just how small he truly was. Michael just stared at the (possibly former) bully and felt something akin to what he would feel when Jeremy would confide in him about all of his troubles. The only way he could describe it as would be...protective? Like he wanted to just take the boy and shield him from everything in the world that may try to hurt him.

Michael reached out a hand to brush some of the shorter boy's hair from his forehead but froze inches away as Rich shifted slightly in his sleep. Michael panicked and made a fast getaway berating himself for almost doing something so stupid. Rich was fine he didn't need a loser like Michael watching over him like a creep.

He quietly slipped out the door of the hospital room and hurried down the hall. He waved goodbye to the nurse and hopped into the elevator. A few minutes later, Michael was pulling out of the hospital's parking lot and driving away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stared at so many pictures of Gerard Canonico to try and see if he had a red streak in his hair for BMC (because I've seen so many fan arts with a red streak) but I couldn't see one so I didn't use colors when describing the hair. Also, I lied, this chapter is a whole 4 words longer than the last one. Enjoy these long ones while they last because the next chapter is SUPER short.  
> Comment please!!!! They make me so happy when I see them :D


	4. Chapter 4

Rich woke up and was greeted by the same depressingly boring room. How doctors expected people to get better in such an environment was beyond him. The ceiling still had the same hairline cracks, the walls were still the same sterile white, the windows still had the same limp, white curtains covering a gray sky. However, when he looked over at the curtains he saw a splotch of red and blue. He blinked the sleep from his eyes until he could clearly see what the bright colors were.

Fucking Mountain Dew Red. Not just Fucking Mountain Dew Red, but Fucking Mountain Dew Red with a mother fucking blue bow stuck to its cap. The soda's label practically screamed late 80's, early 90's. How the fuck did it end up in his hospital room? His eyes fell on the folded piece of paper in front of the bottle and noticed it had his name on it in large letters. He was able to move his arm just enough to reach the sheet and unfold it, revealing the note within . The note, or card, or whatever it was, was written in tiny, messy handwriting and he had to study a few of the words for quite some time before he was able to decipher what they said.

Rich,  
I came by to give you this. I know that you said yours is in an eternal hibernation or something but just in case, here's this. Also it just tastes really good.  
Hope you enjoy.  
~Michael

Rich was so confused. He read the name again trying to see if he had just misread it, but nope, it was from Michael. Michael came back? Why would Michael come back? He had all the information he needed about the SQUIP. Did he come back to repay Rich or did he just want to see him?

Whatever the reason, Rich smiled. Twice. That was twice that Michael had come to see Rich. Twice that Michael had bothered to care about Rich more than any of Rich's so called "friends" had.

He couldn't bend his bandaged arms enough to drink the Mountain Dew Red, but it was comforting just knowing it was there. A vibrant splash of color in his otherwise stark room.

It was still an hour until a nurse would come by to help him eat dinner (God, Rich hated that he couldn't do anything for himself) and Rich had nothing to occupy his time with so he decided that he could sleep more. So he yawned, attempted to shift himself into a more comfortable position, and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep again. He let his mind wander freely and found himself wondering if Michael would succeed in shutting off Jeremy's SQUIP. He hoped Michael would succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, I was so busy that I almost didn't get this out today, but here it is. Enjoy!


	5. Chapter 5

Michael wasn't able to get Jeremy to drink the Mountain Dew Red, the SQUIP wouldn't let him. But Jeremy was able to get Christine to drink it which caused some sort of chain reaction because all of the SQUIPS were connected in a way that made it so if one was shut off they all shut off. 

At least that was what seemed to happen. All Michael knew was one moment he was being held down by a much too strong Jena Rolan watching Christine drink the soda and the next moment everyone started screaming. He was freaking out so he started screaming as well, standing up and turning round and round to see everyone fall to their knees, clutching their heads.

One by one the screaming stopped as the students and Mr. Reyes passed out. Michael was left standing in the middle of a room of unconscious people freaking out, unable to do more than flap his hands helplessly. Some staff came running into the room and Michael can't really remember what happened after that. Some EMT people had charged into the room and started taking everyone away, next thing he knew he was in his car already headed to Saint Clare's. He knew that Mr. Heere had probably been called by the hospital as Jeremy's emergency contact, but Michael decided that he should call him just in case.

His fingers found the fourth number on his speed dial list and started calling without even looking at the phone in his hands. On the third ring the phone was answered. "Hello?"

"Hi, Mr. Heere, it's Michael."

"Oh Michael, have you heard? Jeremy's in the hospital," Mr. Heere told him.

"I know, the entire cast is. Apparently one of the props that they all drink was, um, spiked with, uh, something," he told Mr. Heere. Michael wasn't sure if Jeremy would want his dad to know about the SQUIP, besides this way it was easier to explain and still technically accurate.

"I got the call a moment ago and was going to call you. I'm really glad that you got me finally buy some pants because I need them to go to the hospital." Michael heard the phone shift around, presumably so Mr. Heere could put on his newly purchased pants.

"Me too. I'm already on my way to Saint Clare's so I'll see you there."

"See you there son," responded Mr. Heere.

Michael ended the call and plugged in the AUX cable. At the next red light Michael selected his calming playlist and pressed play hoping to slow his racing heart with some smooth tunes. It didn't really work. Music could only do so much.

He drove, white-knuckled, to the hospital. He would check in on Jeremy but first he needed answers and he knew exactly who would have them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! This was supposed to be out yesterday. School was crazy and I was up till midnight working on homework so evan though this is the last fully pre-written chapter I had no time to edit it. Also, this is the last fully pre-written chapter, the next chapter is about half written so I should be able to finish it and get it out tomorrow but after that no promises on updates. I should be able to get at least one out a week but beyond that, no promises. Enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6

ABC was having a Harry Potter movie marathon and Rich had been half watching Chamber of Secrets when Michael burst through the door. Before Rich could say anything, Michael fixed him with the most furious expression Rich had ever seen and demanded, "What the hell did you do to Jeremy?"

"Nothing! I-I didn't do anything to him. I've been here," Rich babbled, cowering away as much as he was able to while being practically mummified. Rich would admit it, he was fucking terrified. The only other person who had ever worn Michael's current expression was his father when he was in a particularly angry mood. So, he cowered away from the hit that previous experience told him he would receive, mumbling, "I'm thorry, I didn't do anything. I'm thorry, I didn't do anything."

Michael said nothing, he just stared at the smaller boy. This did nothing to calm Rich down as he realized just how defenseless he was, laying prone in a hospital bed with no way to run away or even protect himself. He cowered more, ignoring how the motion stretched the burns painfully, and just continued to apologize. Maybe if he apologized for whatever he was being blamed for, he could convince his dad (no wait, this was Michael) that he didn't do whatever it was that he was being blamed for. He could feel his heart pounding like he had just run a marathon. His breath was ragged as he tried to inhale, only able to gasp as his breath tried to escape in a sob. "No crying Rich! I didn't raise a fucking crybaby! You're weak, a pathetic excuse for a son that I didn't ask for." Rich could feel the phantom kicks to the ribs, and the fingers tight around his neck, holding him against a wall. He couldn't breath, he tried to grab onto something to ground himself but he couldn't grab anything. He was in his dimly lit living room (no you aren't, you're in the hospital) his father (it's still Michael) looming over him.

Michael's face had morphed into concern and he took a step forward, softly asking "Rich?"

Rich didn't notice the change in Michael's face and voice. He flinched violently with a partially stifled cry of fear, caught in a memory of the last time his father had worn the expression Michael had had when he'd entered.

Michael didn't approach further and the room was mostly silent for a while, the only sounds being Rich's ragged breathing as he tried to get some air, and an ad playing on the TV. Rich was blind and deaf to the hospital room, his eyes screwed tightly shut at he braced himself for the punch or the kick accompanied by his father saying how useless he was.

"Rich, can you hear me?" Rich flinched again at the sound of his father's voice. It sounded different but who else could it be. They were alone in the house, the neighbors either didn't hear or didn't care. He was alone. 

"Pleathe, I'm thorry," he whimpered. It never worked, but maybe this time...

"Rich do you know where you are?" What kind of stupid question was that, his dad must be really drunk, but that might mean Rich could avoid the worst of his wrath.

There was still that little voice insisting that it wasn't his dad's voice. It wasn't deep enough, it wasn't slurred from alcohol, it wasn't apathetic or angry. It was soft and concerned, nothing like his father's.

When the voice asked, "Can you open your eyes?" Rich trusted that the voice wasn't his dad's enough to crack open one eyelid. He wasn't in his house. He was in the hospital. His father wasn't there, it was Michael softly asking the questions. He looked very concerned and slightly panicked. "Do you want me to get the nurse?" He was nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Rich gave a tiny shake of his head. If he was alone, he could slip back into the memory. With someone there, even if he closes his eyes, he could hear them breathe and know that it is not his father. So they stayed where they were, Rich trying to calm his uneven breathing, Michael uncomfortably fidgeting with the cord of his ever present headphones, and the TV obliviously playing the movie.

After he calmed down his breathing, Rich spoke quietly, forgoing any attempt to hide the lisp. He had just had a fucking panic attack in front of Michael, a lisp was the least of his problems. "Thankth for thtaying, but pleathe leave now."

"Rich I," Michael began. Rich cut him off, he could see that Michael felt awful, but he needed some time.

"Pleathe, jutht leave."

Michael gave Rice a look that made Rich feel as though he had just kicked a puppy, and nodded. Michael began to leave. He was out of the door and had halfway closed it before he simply stated, "I really am sorry."

He was out of the room before Rich could say anything to that. He focused in throwing off the last shreds of the memory. When he was finally okay enough to think he realized he still had no idea about what happened to Jeremy. Whatever it was, Michael obviously thought it was Rich's fault, fuck. He had just given Michael the advice that the SQUIP had given him back when it was working properly. To gain his trust the SQUIP had told Rich how to deactivate it as a sign of trust. Fuck, why did he believe that stupid fucking computer!? What if Jeremy was hurt or worse because of him? Fuck!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate Rich's dad.
> 
> FEED ME COMMENTS (pls)


	7. Chapter 7

Michael rushed away from Rich’s room. Shit. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened back there, but he had had more than his fair share of panic attacks over the years and he knew what they looked like. Shit, he had somehow induced a panic attack. Shit, shit, shit.

He got into the elevator and went down to the first floor and entered the waiting room there, attempting to keep his own building panic at bay. He did not need this right now. Having a panic attack about a panic attack would solve nothing. He needs to keep himself together. The sight of Jeremy’s father sitting in the waiting room, wearing brand new jeans grounded him slightly.

He looked up as Michael entered the room. Frantically he stood and rushed over to Michael asking, "Michael, have you seen Jeremy yet?"

"No," Michael felt bad. He had been so fixated on getting answers that he hadn't even asked about his friend. It wasn't that he forgot about Jeremy, he just was a bit preoccupied when he got to the hospital. "I had to see someone else really quick."

"Oh," Mr. Heere seemed to deflate, and Michael felt infinitely worse. "They won't tell me anything," he said as he sat down heavily. Michael sat down next to him.

Other parents had gathered in the waiting room, all somber and quiet. Christine's parents, were in the corner, holding each other, wet tracks of tears clear on their cheeks. Jena Rolan's mom and brother each held their phones in their hands and looked at them every few seconds. Brooke's mom and Chloe's dad were quietly arguing. Michael couldn't hear it well, but he was able to understand that they were each blaming the other for their child being in the hospital. Someone who Michael could only guess was Jake's grandmother was staring blankly at a page in a magazine. Mr. Reyes' mom was knitting, looking much too calm for someone who had a child in the hospital.

Michael couldn't think of anything to say so he didn't say anything. The room was quiet, the nurses quietly talking to each other, Brooke and Chloe's argued, and Mr. Reyes' mom's needles clicked.

A doctor entered the waiting room and a set of eyes from every family member turned to face him. The room went silent save for the click, click of the knitting needles. "Mr. And Mrs. Canigula?" The couple stood, still clutching at each other. The doctor walked over and shook their hands. "I'm Doctor Jensen, please come with me." They all walked through the door that separated the waiting room and the patient rooms.

The room remained nearly silent as the doctor and Canigula's left, just nurses and the click of needles. Slowly, one by one, the doctor came back to the waiting room to invite family back. Next it was Jake's grandma, then Chloe's dad, followed almost immediately by Brooke's mom, then Mr. Reyes' mom. There was then a pause, Michael could see Mrs. Rolan clutching the armrest's so tightly that her knuckles turned white, as Jena's brother picked at loose threads at the hem of his jeans. Both had stopped checking their phones. Eventually Doctor Jensen came back and called the Rolans back with him. They practically leapt to him, their hope shining in their eyes, shaking his hand with a painful looking amount of force. They were led away and the room was silent.

The nurses were away from the desk and only Michael and Mr. Heere were in the room. Michael could faintly hear the clock ticking and sounds of the Rolans sobbing. Michael tried staying calm. Jeremy had the SQUIP longer than anyone else so it made sense for him to take a bit longer to recover. Right?

Michael chanced a quick glance towards Mr. Heere. His face was stony and unreadable. They sat silently and waited, and waited, and waited. Hours passed, Michael had bitten all of his nails down to the wick, Mr. Heere hadn’t moved. Visiting hours had ended and as the relatives had reluctantly gone home they cast pitying looks on the two lone figures. Michael had tried not to notice them. The waiting room was empty now, the nurses had been relieved and one of the reliefs was typing, filling the room with the clacking of keys and the occasional click of the mouse.

Michael hadn’t put on his headphones, he wouldn’t until Jeremy was better. Wearing them felt like he was cheating, losing himself instead of feeling the time that tit took. He was partially responsible after all. He had taken Rich’s advice without checking. Now that his thoughts wandered to Rich he remembered something he saw in Rich’s room; the Mountain Dew Red. Rich hadn’t touched it. He had known what it did. Michael felt his anger rising again, aimed at himself and at Rich. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He never should have trusted Rich. Once a bully always a bully.

At some point after 1 AM Michael fell asleep. He didn’t realize that he had fallen asleep and only knew he had because he was woken by the doctor speaking to Jeremy’s dad. “Mr. Heere?” he began, continuing at the nod of confirmation he received. “My name is Doctor Jensen will you please come with me?” Michael scrambled out of the pretzel he had folded himself into as he slept and stood along with Mr. Heere. Doctor Jensen raised an eyebrow at him before turning to Mr. Heere. “Who is this?”

Michael was unsure of himself before Mr. Heere wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tug him slightly closer saying without a trace of doubt, “Family.”

Michael knew he looked nothing like the Heere’s with his tan the most obvious, a contrast to the paleness of the Heere family, but it seemed to be enough for the doctor who simply nodded and motioned for them to follow him. He didn’t lead them to the corridor with it’s plain, blank doors like he had with everyone else, instead he led them to the elevator, speaking as he did. “Jeremy was in a critical state when he came in, he went into cardiac arrest twice, and his EEG readings were all over the place. His alpha waves hopping from 5Hz, which is nearly nearly brain dead, to 17 which is higher than anything I’ve ever seen of heard of.” Michael’s breath caught in his throat and Mr. Heere physically stumbled, only staying upright thanks to the fact that his arm was still around Michael’s shoulder. They were in the elevator and Doctor Jensen pushed a button before turning back to the two. “But thankfully, he is a strong young man and is now stable.” Michael released a huge sigh of relief and felt Mr. Heere slump in relief and release a sigh that was almost a sob.

“Then where are we going?” Michael asked.

“Jeremy is stable but not completely better. We moved him to the third floor so he can have a room to recover in,” replied Doctor Jensen as the elevator doors opened.

Shit. Jeremy was going to be in the hospital for even longer than expected. Wait. Third floor? That was Rich’s floor, double shit.

“How long will he need to stay?” asked Mr. Heere.

“We aren’t sure yet,” the doctor said, leading them past the nurse’s station and down the hall, “we’ll be able to give you an estimate once he wakes up. So far he has remained unconscious.” Mr. Heere looked like he was going to ask another question, but the doctor anticipated it and added, “We aren’t sure how long it will be until he wakes up either,” before Mr. Heere could ask.

The doctor stopped in front of a door. Near the end of the hall. “He’s in here. Visiting hours are technically over but you can stay for tonight. I must ask that you be quiet though. We are a little low on rooms so he has a roommate.” With that, Doctor Jensen walked away.

Michael and Mr. Heere stood in front of the door trying to gather the courage to watch someone who was basically or literally family in such a poor state. Mr. Heere moved first. He reached out his hand and placed it on the handle and paused for a second. He took a deep breath, turned the handle and entered. Michael followed.

Michael first noticed the large sheet partitioning the room and blocking the other occupant from his view. He then looked down to where Jeremy was lying, unconscious.

He almost wished he hadn’t. Jeremy was mostly covered by a sheet but from what little Michael could see he practically looked dead. His face was paler than normal, and his lips were blue. 

Michael could tell he wasn’t just normally sleeping. The two had had enough sleepovers over their 12 years of friendship for Michael to know that Jeremy was a very animated sleeper, his lips always twitching into smiles and frowns, occasionally he would mumble something that could only rarely be classified as “words” by even the loosest description. Now his face was motionless, and completely expressionless.

Mr. Heere pulled one of the hospital chairs to Jeremy’s side and picked up his hand, leaning his forehead to it. Michael grabbed the other chair and brought it to the other side of the bed. He sat down in the stiff chair and placed his hand on Jeremy’s. This hand was attached to a heart monitor. The machine was quiet but the line made short even hops as it moved across the screen. His hand was cool, but still very much alive. This close, he could see Jeremy’s chest slowly rising and falling. It wasn’t much, but it was moving.

“Thank you for staying Michael,” Mr. Heere quietly said.

“Of course Mr. Heere,” Michael assured, “You were right, ya know,” at Mr. Heere’s questioning look Michael clarified, “he can be a little shit sometimes, but he’s our little shit.” Michael looked down at Jeremy fondly with a biting edge of sadness. The sadness stemmed from Michael’s own involvement in putting Jeremy in the cot.

Mr. Heere let out a soft bark of laughter, and smiled with a nod before resting his head back on Jeremy’s hand that he held in his hand.

Michael continued gazing at his best friend, his player two, his favorite person, his buddy. Sure Jeremy had called him a loser but that didn’t erase 12 years.

He lowered his forehead to Jeremy’s hand as it rested on the bed, “I’m so sorry Jeremy,” he thought. “I was just trying to help. I’m so sorry.” Michael could feel hot tears run down his face.

He fell asleep like that: his head resting against his friend’s hand, tears drying on his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy is this later than I expected! Life was crazy and any writing time I had was being dedicated to my creative writing class. Also, I had no idea how to end the chapter (I might change it later on). I didn't actually proofread this because I wanted to get it out today so let me know about any typos of if anything seems off. Also I have zero idea of how hospitals work soon, yeah. I'm just making stuff up.

**Author's Note:**

> I totally ship boyf riends but I got hung up on the line that this pic is named after and I wanted to write a thing. It was supposed to be a oneshot but then it grew and grew and grew until it became whatever this is. This is my first multi-chaptered fit that isn't completely done before I post, I'll post whenever I finish these things.


End file.
